


i can hear them calling out my name

by ccl1pp3d_w1ngz



Category: Dayshift At Freddy's, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, the gay ppl being gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28224576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccl1pp3d_w1ngz/pseuds/ccl1pp3d_w1ngz
Summary: 'Dave knew there was no way he was getting out of this until morning.'- title from empire (let them sing) by bring me the horizon
Relationships: Jack Kennedy/Dave Miller (Dayshift at Freddy's)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	i can hear them calling out my name

Dave knew there was no way he was getting out of this until morning. His body didn’t seem to be working in response to his brain, so all he could do was curl up on the floor of the storage closet - it was cold in there, too, which only made his trembling worse. The only good factor of that is that he could try and pretend he didn’t exist, if his body was numb enough. There was an emotion within him he hadn’t felt in  _ years,  _ since he was around Henry, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. He felt an exhaustion something akin to panic - could he even describe it as that?

He’d stayed after hours to -  _ hopefully  _ \- move the bodies to a less obvious place, as Jack  _ obviously  _ couldn’t do it himself. Dave wondered why he had tasked the orange man with something so important in the first place. Yes, his boyfriend was completely capable, but at the same time - was he?

He thought that maybe he would be able to find the spare key to the building and get out after a couple hours of making sure everything was in place and looking as non-suspicious as it possibly could, but when he began looking he couldn’t find it.

He’d looked in the security office in hopes it’d be on the desk or in one of the drawers, but it wasn’t, leaving him slightly frustrated, but then he began looking in the less obvious - but likely - places. He checked the bathrooms and even ventured half into the ball pit, a dread slowly starting to set in. He couldn’t find it anywhere, and  _ maybe  _ staying overnight wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t go too badly, if he stayed away from the animatronics and the prize counter.

It would’ve been fine. It would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the shrill cries of anguish coming from down the hall, from behind him, from seemingly  _ everywhere.  _ It wasn’t what he expected, to say the least, and it  _ was  _ completely unwelcome, because now he could feel his breathing picking up in speed, could feel his heart pounding in his ears - he didn’t want this. He should’ve left when the restaurant closed. He should’ve-

There was a click. There was a click and at first Dave wasn’t sure what it was, but then he tried the storage closet’s door handle - it wouldn’t open.  _ It wouldn’t open.  _ It wouldn’t open and he was trapped and they were here and there and everywhere and the purple man was starting to feel bile rise in his throat as he stumbled back.

He was alone there, right? No one else could have locked it, since he was there alone. He tried to convince himself that the spirits of the children he murdered couldn’t self actualise and lock doors, move items, hurt him, but at this point it seemed perfectly likely.

The cries continued. The sounds of scared children, wanting their parents to come and save them as a knife plunged into their youthful,  _ fragile  _ skin, as hands wrapped around their brittle throats, squeezing until all they could do was choke to death, misery flooding their every sense - Dave recounted each and every murder in his head, hands shaking as he tried to cover his ears to block out the noise, yet somehow it followed him and resounded throughout his head. 

He should’ve felt bad for them, but he could only feel self pity in that moment. 

He wanted Jack, he wanted comfort and warmth and the safety of his boyfriend’s arms around him, he yearned for something safe and not cold, not as  _ harrowing  _ as this, yet something within him told him he wouldn’t be getting it anytime soon. Maybe this was a ploy to try and get him to feel remorse, to think about what he had done, how many  _ lives  _ he had taken away, how many he’d _ ruined;  _ he didn’t. He did think, though.

He imagined what it would be like to have a birthday party in the local pizzeria. Everything lively, lights bright, friends laughing and playing all around - and suddenly all there is blood, screaming, stolen lives surrounding you as you cry and cry for something you can’t have. Your life crumbling beneath someone’s hands.

He couldn’t feel bad.

He just wanted morning to come already. He could hear whimpers, could hear soft pleads for parents who probably didn’t care - that’s what Henry had told him, that everyone he killed had nothing to live for. No family, no childhood, no  _ love.  _ And maybe,  _ maybe  _ Henry was wrong, but Dave couldn’t think about that, now. It hurt his head too much.

By the time the sun started filtering through the small cracks in the door, Dave was shaking, sobbing by himself, curled up in a ball on the floor. Tear tracks stained his purple-tainted face, his hair tousled from the amount of times he’d ran his hands through it in panic. When he finally stood, he found he could barely walk.

When he pulled down the door handle to find it unlocked, a wave of relief washed over him like waves washing away a sand castle on a beach; it was a fluid, certain feeling, and was such a nice thing to feel after a night of crying in a storage closet because the children he murdered were getting  _ salty _ about it.

He knew what he had to do as soon as he was able to leave. He had to find Jack.

-

Jack walked into the building, feeling that something was off. It was different from normal, the repressed remorse that he usually felt. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with, if it even was one at all. When he made his way to the safe room, his eyes landed on Dave, who was clearly distraught and seemed like he’d been waiting for the tangerine-coloured man. Jack could tell by the way his eyes seemed to be on the verge of falling shut that he hadn’t slept much, or rather at all. Before he could ask what had happened, Dave wrapped his arms around Jack, and started crying -- no,  _ sobbing _ \-- and as many questions there were floating around in his mind, they went ignored. It was as if he’d been waiting for another presence, a feeling of safety he had never truly known. 

The darker-skinned man pushed Jack down into the chair behind him and found refuge on his lap, the tears showing no signs of stopping. Nothing else mattered in that moment except the warmth and comfort from Jack, the complete opposite of the night before, and it was blissful the way he felt like he was safe in his arms, like nothing could get to him. This kind of feeling was one that he couldn’t recall feeling much of, well,  _ ever _ . His whole life had been a series of uncertainties and pain, which all felt like an unpleasant dream when he was with Jack. 

Focusing on the way Jack made him feel had helped to slow the tears and recollect himself, at least a little bit. Jack took notice and sat up ever so slightly, his arms falling looser, but just enough to be discernible to Dave. It wasn’t that big of an effect, but still left him yearning for more. He was tempted to ask him to hold him closer, or to just sort of burrow himself in the orange man's chest. It all felt different now, like time was moving in slow motion. Last night felt like forever, but it was such an overwhelming rush.

“What… happened? Do you want to talk about it?” Jack asked, a gentle tone in his voice. Dave nodded and tried to meet Jack's eyes, but resorted to staring at his chest when he realized he couldn't. He started out hesitantly, almost afraid that Jack would leave him there alone. If that happened, the spirits would probably come back, and he didn't know if he could make it through that again.

He listened intently as the words began to spill from Dave's mouth. The night had sounded horrifying, in a way unimaginable. The hell Jack had been through was only a mere comparison to what the other had experienced. While Jack was haunted by the spirits of those he’d killed, it never really bothered him - especially this much. Dave had always seemed the same way, not caring about it, but perhaps it was just a mask.

Dave's appearance didn't do what he felt justice, but perhaps he didn't deserve that. Yet another thought he couldn't shrug off. His hair was plastered to his forehead, matched by messy hair, wrinkled clothes, and tear stains. The tangerine coloured man ran his fingers softly through his purple hair. It was all over, sticking out at odd angles and greasy, though showers were to be dealt with later, for now, he just wanted to stay here.

Dave tightened his arms around the orange man, yet he wasn't as tense as before. He had never been good with emotions, which made it all worse. This whirlwind of uncertainty, fear, and remorse was painstaking. But… Jack was there. He provided comfort that nobody else could offer, even Henry. His warm body, soft voice, and focused demeanor was blissful, amazing,  _ perfect. _ Nothing could compare to just…  _ him _ .

"C'mon Dave, let's get outta here. Phoney'll live without us for a day." 


End file.
